Forgive Me
by AeonianDreams
Summary: Months after the Fall, John Watson can't move on. Something is holding him back from getting on with his life, forcing him to face head on what has been bothering him since that fateful day. (Spoilers for S2 E3)


Time heals all wounds. Months had passed and to John Watson the wounds were still raw and fresh. He had tried everything to help the healing had worked. There were days he felt like he hadn't gone through any of the stages of grief and others were he felt like he had fallen down them all at once. Nothing had stemmed the pain. Nothing stopped the nightmares.

The nightmares had been near nightly. Dreams of Sherlock with his face streaked with blood. He never moved. He never spoke. The only sound were his own horrible words, the last he said to his face, echoing in his ears. The anger of those words scorched them into his bones. In that heat everything burned away until all that was left inside of him was the only thing that he could no longer deny: regret.

Regret had brought him once again to Sherlock's grave, a place he hadn't thought he'd ever return to. Now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was where he needed to be the most. Standing before it once more, he hesitantly reached out to touch the smooth, black surface. The last time he had been there he had tried his damnedest to resist the urge. To feel it would be to admit that it was real. There was no denying it now. The cool stone was almost reassuring. It held him firm when he felt the whole world trembling around him.

Months of deep pain, unrelenting and primal, had finally given him the insight of what he finally needed to do. He knew that he'd never be able to move on at all until he had dealt with the regret and shame that tore at him. Even if Sherlock was gone from this world and unable to give John the answer he needed, he had to say it before it consumed him whole. Maybe, just maybe, if he finally got it out that it wouldn't hurt so badly anymore. Maybe they could find peace together.

He tried to clear his throat of the hard lump that blocked his words, but it wouldn't budge. He forced himself to get the words out, one painful step at a time. "The last time I was here I tried to take back what I had said to you. I know I tried to make up for it and I said you were the most human, human being I know. I mean that, but it's just not the same. Sherlock, I wanted to, no I have to..." John's throat closed down his words trying to choke them. It took a minute of struggling to get himself steady enough to speak again.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath and whispered brokenly,"Forgive me. Forgive me, please." The last word made his voice crack and the tears finally came through. "I never meant any of it. If I could take it all back, I would. I should never have left you there alone, especially after what I had said to you. I should have known it was fake and I should have...I should have. God, forgive me Sherlock. Please."

Moments of silenced passed as with military precision John mastered himself, locking down on the torrent of emotions that threatened to drag him under once more. Once the barriers were firmly in place, he let out a long held breath. He gripped his best friend's tombstone one last time, as if to truly steady himself for good. Drawing one last bit of strength to last him an entire lifetime without Sherlock. Turning on his heel, he walked away.

The cab was still waiting for him at the very edge of the cemetery. Ready to take him back to the bustling world where everything went on as if nothing had happened. The driver sat completely engrossed with his texting as John slid wordlessly into the back seat. As he slid down into the seat, he felt the crinkle of paper against him. Looking down he saw a small white folded piece of paper, laying innocently next to him. Curious, he opened it up and read the small hand written words on the page. His eyes grew wide as his breath stilled in his chest.

He looked around and saw no one as far as the eye could see. Immediately he asked the driver if it was his or if anyone had been in the cab since he had gotten out. The driver shook his head as he stuck phone back into a pocket and began to drive away. Turning away from the window, he gazed down at the paper in his hands and feeling the tears come once again as the barriers he had built crumbled under the blow that was struck against him. Even as he put the paper in his coat pocket and closed his eyes, he could see the words before him as if they were written inside of his head, and he knew, just knew, it was the miracle he had been asking for. The regret was finally gone, left by a sense of peace and hope. A small smile spread across his face as he felt a tear run down the face.

_You're forgiven._


End file.
